


Part

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22219792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Daniel gets another chance.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	Part

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Hank Anderson goes through an absurd amount of dishes for one human, but Daniel doesn’t mind—he used to wash the dishes for _three_ humans at once whenever their dishwasher broke down. From the looks of it, Hank’s might not have ever worked. He seems like the sort of foolish human who would just live off of fast food if there weren’t a more intelligent man taking care of him, concerned about his health, making him _proper_ meals.

Connor wanders in while Daniel’s elbow-deep in soapy water, only halfway through the mess. Over his shoulder, he sees Connor opening the fridge. One by one, Connor extracts ingredients, loading up the kitchen table that Daniel just cleaned. Connor’s not a housekeeper, not like Daniel is. He’s supposed to be a _detective_. Daniel doesn’t need anyone else to do his job. 

He says, “I’ll do that.”

But he’s not surprised when Connor insists, “That’s alright; I will.” 

Daniel runs the dishrag along a large plate. He tells himself to accept that and do nothing more. He’s supposed to be _behaving._ He will. He promised. He doesn’t want to be refurbished again after this and is so glad he even got this chance, glad he wasn’t just thrown to the dump. He wanted to _live_.

He’s glad to have been repaired. He’s glad to have somewhere to be, even if it’s under police supervision. He knows he doesn’t deserve it. Daniel’s full of _regret_. 

And Daniel should just keep his head down, should just be thankful they took pity on him, but instead he hollowly recites what he’s thinking: “You’re afraid I’ll hurt your human.” _Their_ human. But Connor acts more possessively than he probably realizes. 

Connor stiffens in Daniel’s peripherals. He looks over, and he quietly admits, “I’m sorry about what happened to you.”

 _Daniel’s_ the one that’s sorry. He should never have tried to hurt her. Some days he still thinks of calling Emma, but he knows he traumatized her. He doesn’t deserve forgiveness. He doesn’t deserve a fresh start in Connor’s life. 

Connor goes on, “I’m glad we were able to repair you; I don’t like how things went down with us. And I’m glad you were re-homed, but... humans are fragile, Daniel. And Hank’s... I’m just trying to be careful.”

“I know,” Daniel murmurs. “I’m sorry.” He resumes scrubbing. He doesn’t offer excuses, because there aren’t any. He was new to emotions then: they came on in an uncontrollable surge, something he just couldn’t deal with. He’s had time to adjust, but he still can’t promise it won’t ever happen again. He still says, as much to himself as Connor, “I won’t hurt Hank Anderson.”

“Good. Because Hank’s a good man.”

A loud crashing noise flitters in from the bedroom. Both of them look up, tense, but before either can panic, Hank’s grumpy voice shouts, “Connor! Did you move my nightstand again? I stubbed my toe, you asshole!”

Despite himself, Daniel smiles. The timing’s just too perfect, Hank’s voice too cantankerous. 

Connor simulates a sigh and heads off to take care of him.


End file.
